


nemo

by adhdmollymauk



Series: once [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dreamsharing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other, pov swap, yasha invents therapy part 2 electric boogaloo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adhdmollymauk/pseuds/adhdmollymauk
Summary: molly pines. caleb heals. an ancient supernatural force decides to intervene.a pov swap/companion piece towhite night fantasy; you don't need to read it to understand this, although it helps





	nemo

**Author's Note:**

> back on my bullshit AGAIN i had to get this out of my system too Apparently
> 
> because i have no chill, title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGWBmZnZdkw), and title of the series is from the album
> 
> warnings from the caleb pov don't apply, although molly has his own baggage
> 
> theoretically there will be a part 3

Mollymauk Tealeaf is never himself in dreams.

The few that he can remember almost always feel wrong, as if he's looking at the world through someone else's eyes.Things that might have been memories resurface and unsettle him, never enough to piece together the man who used to inhabit his body. Not that he wants to.

Sometimes, he dreams of graveyards. They don't scare him, not really, but in dreams he sees name after name on the tombstones and fears that he was the one who put them there.

And sometimes he dreams his earliest memory. The one that surfaces unbidden when he's in too small a space, that makes him focus a little too much on his breathing when he's underground.

Mornings, sometimes, he is terrified to lose himself. Whoever he is, this still-new person, feels like a guest in this body, and the more he dreams of a face that's not quite his the more the fear grows.

Only Yasha knows this part of him, behind the carefully arranged persona. Quiet as she is, she's the one who was there with him as he built the person he is now from scratch. She used to sit with him after nightmares, speak calmly in a language like singing that he didn't understand, and just let him talk. Even when words wouldn't come to him, which happened more often than not in the early days, or when he couldn't seem to manage Common and spoke haltingly in what must have been his native tongue, she would listen.

"Any weird shit last night?" she asks him, most mornings. By now he's almost always all right, but some days she acts as a sounding board for his dreams, bringing him back to himself.

* * *

 

From what he's seen of Lucien, and also from his own desire to make that part of himself as distant as possible, he pictures this: Military-esque buzzcut, those stupid red tattoos, probably super straight and very obviously extremely cis, dresses in those incredibly practical leathers that somehow make even leather unsexy. Whatever he got up to, the bits of memories that come back to him devoid of context, always seemed to be combat or messing with some arcane force he shouldn't have. He's chosen not to be that person anymore, and he fucking wishes that person would stop trying to push his way back in. Just for once, he wants to see his own face in a dream, his own carefully chosen tattoos and long hair and bright clothes.

And then something changes.

He doesn't want to think too hard about why, but he starts to remember more of his dreams, the normal ones. Twisted convoluted narratives set in strange nonexistent worlds, anxiety dreams about having to perform with no rehearsals and no script, sex dreams about, oh, anyone and everyone, really, and sometimes several of them at once.He still tells Yasha some of them, mostly to make her laugh; it's one of his favorite sounds.

* * *

 

Whatever else Molly is, he's always been in tune with his own emotions.He knows very well that all of his friends are attractive, and he's not shy about flirting with them; it's just a casual thing, mostly, the way he interacts, although admittedly at least half of his flirting with Fjord is specifically to be annoying. And gods, he _knows_ that Caleb Widogast is absolutely the last fucking person he should have a crush on right now, but he also knows that he very much does.

In his defense, Caleb is fucking irresistible, even hidden behind the layers of dirt and caution.Not everyone can see through them, or tries to, but Molly sees him for what he is, all of it, and he likes what he sees so very much. Caleb is beautiful, and kind, and he has a wry sense of humor that sneaks its way into conversations at surprising moments, and no matter how many walls he puts up Molly finds himself wanting to help him tear them down. He knows how Caleb feels about being looked at and he can very well infer how he feels about being wanted, at least right now, so he keeps his distance as best he can. But gods, it's fucking hard. Yasha laughs at him for days after Caleb comes up from the merrow tunnel clean-shaven, mimicking his stunned expression, which was, as she tells him over and over, the most smitten look she's seen him give anyone.

And now, apparently, it's carried over into having vaguely gay dreams about him. Which is just perfect.

He can't really remember how the dream starts, but he remembers how it ends.

They're sitting next to each other, talking about nothing in particular, and it's ridiculous that he's so smitten with this man that dreams as simple as this leave him feeling fluttery and nervous all day.

He remembers, later, telling him something about wanting to be around him; a compliment, a truthful one, that he would never say out loud for fear of making Caleb shy away. Calls him gorgeous, must have let all of his feelings show on his face. And Caleb looks at him, and his face is more open than it's ever been, and he dreams of Caleb holding his hand.

"If I knew calling you gorgeous was all it took I'd have done this long ago," he remembers saying. He kisses Caleb's knuckles, almost reverently, and his heart feels almost too big for his chest when he sees the pure awe on Caleb's face.

He doesn't tell all of this to Yasha, but she gets the abbreviated version, with a lot of the feelings left out. She tries teasing him over it, but he reminds her pointedly about a certain monk and she shuts up pretty quick.

It might just be wishful thinking, but Caleb seems a little off, after that night. His sense of humor comes through more, almost like he's trying to make Molly laugh. He finds himself more and more drawn to Caleb, wanting to tease him and flirt with him, and he's terrified he's just going to come on too strong so he directs all the energy at Fjord instead.

It happens again, and something is decidedly off.

He dreams of a tavern, surrounded by their friends. Somehow, in the dream, he knows that he and Caleb are together, and so do the others. He finds that Caleb's lap makes a very nice chair, and is perfectly content to spend the rest of the dream relishing in it, and then.

"This is not real," dream-Caleb says, and that's possibly the oddest thing he's ever heard someone say in a dream, because as far as he knows this version of Caleb isn't real either. And then the world disappears and he finds himself sitting in an endless void, his coat spread out under him as if he's busking on the street somewhere.

"You are not real either," Caleb says.Which is even weirder, because he has very much been under the impression, until now, that this is _his_ dream.

He decides to test the boundaries of whatever this is; since he feels like he should be busking, he might as well produce some cards. He concentrates, on what he's not sure, but a card appears in his hand all the same. It's not a real tarot card--he's pretty sure the name of it is the Ace of Flames--but it's interesting all the same. A hand, probably Caleb's, cups a small flame, and somehow he knows that it represents the beginning of something, something that needs to be nurtured in order to grow. And he wakes up.

By the next night he's fairly sure that these aren't his dreams after all. They're too vivid, and he has far too much control, and Caleb seems to think he's not real which leads him to believe that Caleb very well might be.

Tonight Caleb is building doors, which he seems determined to do instead of looking at Molly.

"Those are very nice," Molly says, coming up behind him.

"Go away," Caleb says, as a wrought-iron gate takes shape in front of him, twice as tall as he is with imposing spikes across the top.

"Really, Caleb, I'm beginning to get some mixed signals here. You're thinking about me enough to dream of me nearly every night, but you won't even look at me?" For a moment, Molly thinks he is pushing his luck. Caleb doesn't seem to have realized that anything odd is going on, and somehow he still manages to gloss over this. And somehow, Molly has managed to get him to be open.

"More for your sake than mine. I am trying not to think about you because I don't want to hurt you." Blue eyes meet his for only a second.

"Hurt me how, exactly?"

"In every possible way, because my mind is fucked up and I do not know how to have feelings anymore, much less act on them."

Before Molly can say anything else, he's gone, and Molly is unceremoniously shunted into another dream.

He doesn't stop thinking about it. The dreams stop, for what seems like forever, and Caleb avoids him which makes him think that whatever instinct he had about this might have been right, and he can't stop thinking about Caleb's face. He doesn't know how to fix it, how to help, or if he even can, but gods all he wants is to give him endless praise and tell him over and over again that he is not broken. However long it takes, however slow it is, Molly wants to be there for him.

It's about then that he starts to realize that this has gone far beyond crush territory.

* * *

 

When the dreams finally return, it's a relief. Molly finds himself lounging on a generic inn bed, Caleb sitting by him, and wants to say so many things that he couldn't without the layer of unreality that this gives him but can't think where to start.

"I do not know what kind of dream you think this is but I'm not joining you," Caleb says, and if Molly had any doubts about this being one of Those Dreams he doesn't anymore.

"What kind of dream do you want it to be?" It's a loaded question, maybe too loaded, but gods does he hope Caleb is on the same page as he is.

Caleb paces the room, and Molly waits. And then he's being pulled up from the bed, and he waits some more, and _hopes_ , and then he is dreaming of Caleb kissing him like he's never been kissed before. And gods. Even in an ordinary dream, this would have been a memory he treasured; knowing that it's probably the real Caleb, that the real Caleb wants to kiss him like _this_ , is even better.

When he tells Yasha about it, leaving out the details, she laughs at him for acting as if it's their real first kiss. In a way though, it is.

* * *

 

At first, he thinks--hopes, even--that the next dream is real, that he's somehow forgotten whatever series of events could have led him to wake up next to Caleb. He wants this, every day, and realizing it's a dream only puts a little bit of a damper on his happiness.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," he says.

"Hi," Caleb says, muffled into the pillow as he turns away. Molly just barely catches a sleepy little huff of breath, and it's so incredibly cute, and he's so fucking smitten.

"This okay?" Molly asks, and slowly, carefully wraps his arms around Caleb's waist. He feels a slight nod against his shoulder and settles in, feeling Caleb's muscles relax by degrees. He's almost content to stay like that for the rest of the dream, but he wants more, and despite his better instincts he decides to ask for it.

"Is it all right if I kiss you, because I really cannot overestimate how _very_ much I want to do that right now," Molly says, and is rewarded with a _very_ gratifying shudder and another nod.

He's wanted this for so long, the freedom to just explore Caleb with no expectations. He wants Caleb, of course, but he knows that it will be a long time before that's on the table, and he's absolutely content to just kiss him again and again. The hazy feeling of the dream means he doesn't remember everything individually but as a blur; that blur will have to be enough, for now. He daydreams about this moment over and over, imagines kissing every inch of Caleb's skin and whispering praise.

They meet in dreams again and again, and no matter how many times Molly dreams of kissing him it's never enough, never a substitute for the real thing. Caleb isn't ready, can't be ready, but Molly wants so badly to be able to be easily affectionate with him and hold his hand as they walk through the city and do all the things Caleb can only allow himself when he's asleep.

One night he dreams that they're back on the road, leaning against each other on the edge of the cart as Molly makes Caleb laugh by making up names and stories for the constellations. The feeling he's been refusing to name is so strong, so real, and he finds himself blurting it out in a moment of weakness.

"I love you, Caleb," he says, and immediately knows he's destroyed this, whatever this is. The dream fades, leaving him empty.

* * *

 

"Yasha, I fucked up," he says, but how in the hells is he going to explain how.

He tries his best, but he can tell she doesn't quite believe him, and why would she, the whole story is absolutely nuts.

And then she comes back, almost running, and says "Molly what the _fuck._ "

He looks up, still distracted, and she's staring at him like he's predicted the fucking future or something, and it takes him a second, and then.

"So I was right," he says. He hadn't quite believed it himself, until right this moment.

She drags him to Caleb's room, ignoring his protests, and leaves them alone with each other, and Caleb is staring at the floor and Molly has to break this to him as slowly as possible but he doesn't know how.

"I don't know what she's going on about but she seems to think we've been having the same dreams," Molly says, hoping this alone won't completely break him. "Listen, I--do you remember the tarot card, with the hand holding the flame?"

Caleb looks stricken, and there's recognition there, immediately pushed aside by the face he gets when he's processing something complicated.

"Honestly, I kind of guessed that a long time ago, to some extent anyway." He's rambling and he doesn't know how to stop. "Figured it was some magic bullshit and didn't want to think too hard about it. But, uh. You didn't know?"

He really has done it now. He's ruined any possibility they had, and he's trying his hardest not to show how absolutely devastated he is at fucking up this badly.

"The dodecahedron," Caleb is saying. "I--do not know what exactly it does but it has.... helped me, in dreams, before. Do you think it--"

"Honestly, Caleb, I don't really care what did it. I just wanted to say, uh. That thing I said, earlier? I guess that counts as earlier? I meant it."

He leaves before Caleb can say anything else. He's done enough already.

The next morning Caleb is gone.

* * *

 

He expected this, in a way; it doesn't make it hurt any less.

He and Yasha are the only ones who have even a guess of why this might have happened. The others are scared, or angry, or just worried. All of them want him to come back, decide, early on, that they're going to stay right where they are until he comes back to them.

Nott takes it the hardest of any of them. Wherever Caleb has gone to, he's not answering her messages, or maybe can't, and Molly doesn't know how to help her, how to tell her he's feeling the same fear that she is right now. Jester throws herself into making sure Nott is okay, and the both of them smother Kiri with attention. Beau hits things a lot, and sometimes Molly joins her, slashing at rotting boxes with his scimitars in an alley as she lays into a pile of trash with her staff. She and Fjord look for him; Molly has some ideas where he might be, but he really doesn't want to be found. All of them can only hope he hasn't left the city, that he's alive and okay, that he'll come back to them.

And it's Molly's fault, and that fact weighs on him more and more every day he's missing, and then on the third day finally he hears Nott shriek from upstairs and he can breathe normally again.

He keeps his distance as Caleb greets the others, not sure what this means or what he wants, letting Caleb make the first move.

Somehow he actually does, and Molly finds himself almost in a panic at what this conversation is going to be.

"Hi," is all Caleb says as he sits down.

"Hey. You all right?" It's not enough, but it's a start.

"I think so. Now I am."

"Listen, I-"

"I wanted to-"

Molly stops, waiting, trying to breathe.

"I want to make this work," Caleb says. It's real. He's really saying it, and Molly can't stop himself from grinning like an idiot.

"I am.... absolutely terrified. I have not done the relationship thing in so long and I thought, for a very long time, that I was no longer able to love anyone that way. And now there's..... this, and there's _you_ , and I do not deserve to be looked at the way that you look at me, but I. I still want you to, and I want to try to make this work."

This is really happening, Molly thinks, and has to remind himself to speak.

"Yes." It's the only thing he can say, the only thing he can think right now. "Gods, yes, whatever pace you want, I just want to be with you."

"Forgive me if that's.... hard to believe, right now," Caleb says, and lets Molly take his hand. Yasha smiles at him across the room, and their hands fit together like they were made to, and Molly thanks whatever the fuck eldritch being is responsible for this and he can't stop smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> im on [tumblr](http://adhdmollymauk.tumblr.com) as well! comments fuel me! i promise i will update book club this week! it's been a really fucking weird and bad week mental health wise i'm trying!


End file.
